


Set me high

by wannabequeen



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Established Relationship, Face-Fucking, Fluff and Smut, Multi, Nonbinary Character, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Rope Bondage, Sex Toys, Teasing, Threesome - M/Other/Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-15
Updated: 2016-04-15
Packaged: 2018-06-02 08:43:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6559756
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wannabequeen/pseuds/wannabequeen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grantaire teases Bahorel by playing with their favorite toy while Bahorel is tied up and gagged, then Combeferre comes home and doms the fuck out of both of them. This fic features in-scene negotiation, lots of praise and soothing touches, and basically no pain play of any type aside from hair pulling which is more about control than hurting anyway.</p>
<p>aka: two nbs and a cis dude have kinky sex in their kitchen, are schmoopy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Set me high

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally going to be very silly about Bahorel and Grantaire fencing with their biggest dildos, but I got distracted by porn and didn't write that. This is why, at the beginning, R is talking about their dildo preferences. This was also going to be a Christmas gift for my friend, but now it is mid-april. 0 for 2 here.
> 
> Nonbinary characters are Grantaire and Combeferre (both use they/them), while Bahorel is a cis dude (who uses he/him).
> 
> trigger warnings: Grantaire gets floaty and quiet when they're in subspace, but they're still able to express their needs and desires, which are promptly met. If someone going fairly nonverbal during sex freaks you out, this might not be a great fic for you.

R is spread open on the chair across from Bahorel, slouched and curled into themself so that they can slowly move the prostate massager in and out of their hole. Lube is dripping from the toy and their hand, and Bahorel wants nothing more than to reach out and slide his fingers through the slick, replacing Grantaire’s hand with his own. Unfortunately, R knows Bahorel is never able to restrain himself, so they had restrained him with a soft gag and rope at his ankles and forearms. Bahorel can’t even try to relieve some of the pressure on his own cock, and Grantaire certainly isn’t helping.

“Okay, like, I get that you like girth, but I don’t need a monster cock when I’m jerking off, you know? Just one to hit – ahh – the right spot” R’s leg kicks a little on a particularly good angle, before they return their heel to Bahorel’s knee, forcing his legs apart where he’s tied to the kitchen chair.

They start to move the toy quicker, hitching their hips and grunting a little at every thrust. Sweat starts to prickle at their temples and under the tissue of their breasts. Bahorel knows that by the time they reach this point, they’ll probably be coming soon, and then they’ll let him come.

But, instead of bringing their second hand up to play with their dick, R stops and turns one ear to the sound of keys in the lock of their apartment door. Combeferre opens it and, seeing both of their partners naked in the kitchen, quickly shuts the door behind them.

“Starting without me? Tsk, R, you should have waited. Good initiative with the rope, though. It’ll make what I’m going to do for you one step easier.” Combeferre smiles, calculating, takes off their sweater and begins to roll up the sleeves of their oxford. Grantaire shoves the toy most of the way in and whines, biting their lip and watching Combeferre’s nimble fingers.

“Grantaire, up. Bahorel, stay right there.”

Bahorel rolls his eyes, then jerks his hips to the side, scraping the chair maybe an inch to the left before glaring at Combeferre, who just crosses their arms.

“For that, you come last,” they say. They headed over to the sink and start washing up. As they soap their hands, they call over their shoulder, “Grantaire, safe words?”

“Pentagon for stop, triangle for slow down.”

“Good. Bahorel, nonverbal safewords?”

Bahorel raps his knuckles three times quickly against the leg of the chair, pauses long enough that it’s clear it’s deliberate, and then knocks again, four times.

“Three for stop, four for slow down. Good.”

Drying their hands on a towel, Combeferre surveys what is available to them. A bound Bahorel, a flushed and thoroughly prepped Grantaire, and two besmirched kitchen chairs. They’ve done more with less. They grab a few condoms from the stash in the back of a drawer, just in case. Never hurts to keep things tidy. 

Combeferre kisses Bahorel on the forehead, then walks over to where Grantaire is standing, placing a hand at their hip and the other on their jaw. They kiss like that, softly, for a few minutes, before Combeferre slips their hands down to squeeze Grantaire’s ass. They wriggle, which causes the toy to move within them, and a surprised grunt interrupts the kiss.

Combeferre is only about half-hard, still, but they decide to move on.

“R, sweetheart, put your hands on Bahorel’s shoulders, and bend over so that you’re braced on him. I’ll be right behind you”

They take a moment to appreciate the sight – Grantaire bent over, legs slightly spread to accommodate Bahorel’s knees, dark dusky hair and stretch marks on their thighs pointing towards their round ass. Combeferre takes off their shirt and leans over to kiss the small of Grantaire’s back, pulling the toy out and slipping a finger in to check how well-lubed their hole is. Grantaire rocks forward, burying their face in Bahorel’s neck, and groans.

“I know you like my fingers, R, but you’ve got a decision. Come untouched, only my fingers in your ass,” Combeferre pauses, sliding their finger back out. “Or, let me fuck you until I come, then jerk you off while you blow Bahorel.”

Grantaire doesn’t say anything, just whines long and high, wriggles at the waist like it’s impossible for them to stand still. There’s a flush spreading down the back of their neck, and from the way Bahorel’s rolling his head back, Grantaire’s face is probably uncomfortably warm against his skin.

“R, if you don’t make a decision, I’ll ask Bahorel.”

If anything, Grantaire’s wiggling speeds up. Combeferre meets Bahorel’s eyes over their back. Slowly, deliberately, he blinks twice. Combeferre nods, businesslike, and undoes their belt and trouser button.

“Bahorel decided for you, since you couldn’t. He’s done a very good job, so when I’m done fucking you, he’s gonna get your mouth, ok?”

Grantaire nods and starts kissing up Bahorel’s neck, mouthing without finesse. Combeferre puts one hand on their hip and uses their other hand to pull themself out of their pants, roll on the condom, and line them up. They take a moment, dick pressed up along the crack of Grantaire’s ass, to consider scrapping the plan and switch to frottage. But Grantaire is being so good, standing still and not pushing themself back, prepped and wet and warm. Taking a deep breath through the nose, Combeferre pushes in, making it as steady as they can, and pauses when Grantaire arches their neck back and makes a punched-out sound.

“R? You want me to slow down or stop?”

Grantaire pants for the space of a few breaths, then shakes their head, saying, “Talk? Please?”

“Of course, sweetheart.” Combeferre runs what they hope is a soothing hand along the curve of their hip and start to thrust, shallowly, slowly, so that Grantaire can adjust, adding more lube between strokes. “You’re so good for me, so tight, so wet. I love getting home and seeing you ready for me, seeing that you’re both ready for me. You’re so pretty, dear one, and you did such a good job of getting Bahorel ready too. Your hole feels so good, I wish you could see how hot it is when I thrust into you. You just… open up for me, R, it’s beautiful.”

Grantaire starts pushing back to meet them, moving faster than the pace Combeferre had set.

“Mmm, you’re ready for me to fuck you in earnest? Make sure you’re not ignoring Bahorel, he isn’t just there for structural support.”

They nod rapidly, returning their attentions to Bahorel’s neck and shoulder. As Combeferre speeds up, they see a flash of teeth against his skin, and Bahorel throws his head back.

“Good, good. Fuck, honey, I’m not going to last too long, you feel so good around me, the two of you look so good together. Leave marks so he can look at them tomorrow and remember, we can press down on the bruises and remind him of this, of what happens when he’s a smartass. He gets…”

 Combeferre pauses, then gives an especially hard thrust that pushes Grantaire’s entire upper body against Bahorel’s, their cock swinging near to his, but not touching, not giving relief. “He gets teased.”

Bahorel grunts through the gag, and Grantaire tightens around Combeferre’s cock. Singing their praises, Combeferre comes, quick and hard, hands tight on their hips. As they pull out and toss the condom where no one will step on it, Grantaire’s knees buckle, and Combeferre sinks to the ground with them, hugging them tight from behind as they kneel, temple resting on Bahorel’s thigh.

“That was amazing, sweetheart. You need a minute to breathe? We can do that. It can wait, Bahorel can wait. You took me so, so good.” Bahorel looks at Grantaire’s head, still down, and then widens his eyes at Combeferre. He can wait, but he can’t wait forever. Combeferre widens their eyes right back. With one hand, Combeferre gently rubs Grantaire’s stomach in slow, soothing motions, never getting too near their still-hard cock. The other hand, they have wrapped securely around Bahorel’s ankle, anchoring him.

Slowly, Grantaire kisses up the inside of Bahorel’s thigh. When they run the tip of their tongue up his dick, Bahorel jolts, scraping his chair forward, yearning, searching for more contact after so long without. Grantaire takes the tip into their mouth, flicking gently with their tongue, and he nearly screams through the gag. They start up a rhythm, not going especially deep or fast, but steady, using their clever tongue against the bottom where he’s sensitive. Bahorel’s fairly sure he’s whining to the beat, the high pitched whine he’ll be embarrassed about later but right now is the only sound he feels capable of making.

Combeferre wraps their fingers around Grantaire, starts jerking them at the same pace as Grantaire’s head bobs. Grantaire pushes their hips back a little, and blows Bahorel a little faster. Rubbing one thumb against the tip of Grantaire’s cock, Combeferre uses their other hand to jerk at the base, just how they know R likes it. They crane up their neck to whisper something in their ear, something Bahorel can’t hear, and Grantaire hums, taking Bahorel deeper.

With a final twist of Combeferre’s wrist, Grantaire comes. Their mouth goes still on Bahorel’s cock, and he nearly cries, needing _just a little bit more_ and utterly unable to get it.

“Don’t disregard dear Bahorel, honey. You’ve done a lot of work, but he still needs to come.”

Grantaire pulls off – Bahorel feels a few tears actually leak out– and turns to look back at Combeferre. “Help?” they ask.

“I need you to clarify that, Grantaire. ‘Help’ could mean I use my hand on the part you can’t get with your mouth, it could mean I just take over and let him come on your pretty face, or it could mean I get my hands in your hair and fuck your mouth with his cock.”

At the third, Grantaire whines and hides their face in the soft place between Bahorel’s thigh and pelvis and stomach. They get like this sometimes, embarrassed and shy and nonverbal. They raise three fingers and press them into Combeferre’s thigh where it brackets Grantaire’s own.

“Fuck, sweetheart, okay. Okay. Use your hands to steady Bahorel’s cock, okay?”

Grantaire nods weakly and runs their hands up Bahorel’s leg to circle the base of his dick. Combeferre kisses the back of their neck in approval, and then says “I’m about to grab your hair, fair warning.”

They thread their fingers through Grantaire’s hair, catching and using curls as a sort of handle before gathering it all up into a fist. They pull Grantaire’s head back, back onto Combeferre’s shoulder behind them, and Grantaire’s mouth falls open, just from the way their head is bent.

“Good.”

And with no further warning, Combeferre steers Grantaire’s mouth onto Bahorel’s cock and establishes a brutal pace. Grantaire’s mouth is soft and open and so, so, wet, spit dripping down to their fingers at the base, enough to slick the way a little when they start to move their hands in little increments, more massaging than really jerking off, but it’s okay, because Bahorel’s not long for this anyway. Combeferre pushes Grantaire’s head a little further down, and Grantaire swallows around his dick, and Bahorel’s gone. Gone. He comes, and closes his eyes, throws his head back and breathes like a bellows around his gag, trying to regain some of the composure he just so thoroughly lost. He can feel Grantaire’s face resting on his thigh, sticky from sweat and, probably, Bahorel’s come, but now it’s comforting instead of a desperate tease.

Quick fingers untie the gag at the back of his head, and he opens his eyes to Combeferre standing above him. They pull the gag away, leaning down to place another kiss on his forehead.

“Okay?” they ask.

“Quite,” Bahorel says, voice scratchy even though he couldn’t even talk for most of the scene.

Combeferre nods decisively and crouches to untie Bahorel’s forearms and ankles, running warm palms along skin gone cold from being kept still. Before standing back up, they take Grantaire’s hand.

“Come on, sleepy, let’s get both of you somewhere more comfortable than the floor.”

Grantaire groans, but stands up, draping themself all over Combeferre, who manages to get all three of them into a pile on their truly hideous but very deep and very cozy couch. Combeferre grabs their favorite blanket off the back, maroon and thick and fuzzy and soft in the way that only entirely synthetic microplush fleece can be. They tuck one corner around Bahorel’s broad back, curled over so that he can rest his head on Combeferre’s shoulders, and the other corner under Grantaire’s ass and toes, because they’ve curled up and stuck their face in Combeferre’s stomach in a way that can’t be conductive to airflow.

Combeferre sighs, runs his hands down the sides of both of his beautiful, beautiful partners, and decides that maybe it’s ok to take a little nap before he gets up for juice and a washcloth and clean underwear.

**Author's Note:**

> the forehead kissing is Combeferre and Bahorel's way of demarcating the boundaries of a scene. 
> 
> fun fact: Grantaire's safeword is a result of me not remembering the proper name of the shape of a stop sign
> 
> If you're wondering, since I hardly describe them, my general faceclaims are:  
> \- [jason momoa](http://maybeseveralthings.tumblr.com/post/115786729175/clrllnx0-zombeesknees-dear-lord-i-do-not-know) for bahorel  
> \- [aldis hodge](http://maybeseveralthings.tumblr.com/post/134952379838/honorat-aldis-hodge-and-a-dolphin) for combeferre, but less buff and with longer hair  
> \- [antisepticbandaid's art](http://antisepticbandaid.tumblr.com/post/128373165704/lesmisfurry-probably-going-to-be-my-least) for grantaire, but heavier, like [this body type](http://maybeseveralthings.tumblr.com/post/139995896919/transcourf-drawing-grantaire-makes-me-happy)


End file.
